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There were two Highway cops sitting at the counter of the small restaurant in the Marriott Motel on City Line Avenue when Matt and Amanda walked in.
He didn't recognize either of them and saw nothing like recognition in their eyes, either. Both looked carefully at Amanda and him, however, something Matt ascribed to Amanda's good looks, her lowcut evening dress, and the disparity between that and the tweed sport coat and slacks he had put on to go to work; or all of the above.
He was wrong. As soon as they had sat down in one of the booths, he saw alarm in Amanda's eyes and looked over his shoulder to see what had caused it. Both Highway cops were marching to the booth.
And they were, Matt thought, in their breeches and boots, their Sam Browne belts and leather jackets, intimidating.
"Seen the papers, Payne?" the larger of the two asked.
"No."
"Thought maybe not," the cop said.
How the hell am I going to introduce these guys to Amanda? That's obviously what they want, and I have absolutely no idea what either of their names are.
He was wrong about that too. The second Highway cop carefully laid slightly mussed copies of theBulletin, theLedger, and theDaily News on the table and then nodded to Amanda.
"Ma'am," he said. By then the first cop was halfway to the door.
"Hey!" Matt called. Both cops looked at him, "Thank you."
Both waved and then left the diner.
"For a moment there I thought we were going to be arrested again," Amanda said.
"We weren't."
"Call it what you like," she said. "Are they all like that?"
"Like what?"
"So, what's a word? Those two looked like an American version of the Gestapo."
"They're Highway," Matt said. "They're sort of special. Sort of the elite."
"That's what they said about the Gestapo," Amanda said.
"Hey, they're the good guys," Matt said.
"How is it they knew you?"
"I guess they know I work for Inspector Wohl."
"What does Peter Wohl have to do with them?"
"He's their boss, one step removed. He commands Special Operations. Highway is under Special Operations."
A waitress appeared with menus.
"Isn't that awful?" she said, pointing at the front page of theDaily News.
Matt looked at it for the first time. Above the headline there was a half-page photo of Anthony J. DeZego slumped against the concrete blocks of the stairwell at the Penn Services Parking Garage.
MAFIA FIGURE MURDERED SOCIALITE WOUNDED IN CENTER CITY SHOOTING
"Let me see," Amanda said, and he slid the tabloid across the table to her and turned to theLedger. The story was at the lower right corner of the front page, under a two-column picture of Miss Penelope Detweiler:
